


Rhapsody

by Emcee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Community: smutty_claus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Post - Deathly Hallows, Ritual Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-21
Updated: 2007-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emcee/pseuds/Emcee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: The Ministry is celebrating the victory over Voldemort. But Ginny can feels the pounding and the cold of her locket. Midnight shakes the memory and she is lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhapsody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freckles42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckles42/gifts).



> Written for [smutty_claus](http://smutty-claus.livejournal.com/profile) 2007\. This is set two years after "The Deathly Hallows"-- with the outcome slightly different.

Twelve o'clock.  
  
The wind whipped her long, red tresses as Ginny strode down the long, lonely street. Every streetlamp she passed bathed her in harsh light. But she found no comfort in the glow. The icy wind chilled her flesh. The silken blue gown she wore provided no warmth, no protection.  
  
Why had she left early? Why did she tell her family she would be fine apparating on her own? Why did she decide to walk instead? Why did she leave the safety of the Burrow in the first place?  
  
Safety... Ha. That was a relative term these days. Peace had been declared. But peace for whom? The Dark Lord was dead, his body dust as the curse rebounded onto him.  
  
He wasn't gone. Ginny could feel it in her heart. He was lying in wait. The time would come when he would return. Strike like the serpent he truly was.  
  
Yet she tested her fortitude. The memory of the madman would not stop her from living her life. She had danced, celebrated the victory of the war at the Ministry. A celebration too early, she told herself. The thrum of music and pearls of triumphant laughter could not drown out the sound of the drums. The drums of war not yet finished. She could feel it pound, in time with her pulse. She could see it in Harry's eyes, deadened the moment the Dark Lord hit the ground.  
  
"It's not over," Those were his whispered words. She had heard them as she and Neville danced by the corner he hid himself in. "I never finished."  
  
Those had been the only words he spoke that night. It was the only word he said any night. He'd lived too long with the shadow cast over him, the others muttered when they thought Ginny wasn't listening. He couldn't cope with the peace.  
  
It was not peace Harry couldn't cope with. He couldn't cope with the chaos that would crash down on them when the Dark Lord gathered his strength once again.  
  
Ginny reached up and played with the necklace that hung from her throat. She followed the thick chain down to the heavy gold locket resting just above her neckline. She didn't know what possessed her to wear it. She had kept it hidden since it had been placed amongst the trinkets to be discarded at Grimmauld Place.  
  
Why had she kept it? Sirius had wanted all those things thrown out for obvious reasons. But the locket... The locket had called to her. She hadn't worn it until the Dark Lord's demise. Now, she couldn't bear to remove it.  
  
She tightened her fingers around the locket. It seemed to pulse in time with her heart. A beat like a fatalistic drum.  
  
The pounding of her heart grew louder, mingling with the sound of the drums. Harder, faster, it throbbed in her head. Ginny realized with a gasping breath, the drums had begun to pound the moment she put on the locket.  
  
Harder and faster still, they incessantly pulsed. Ginny grew dizzy, the stark illumination of the streetlamp blinding her.  
  
Stop, stop,... She needed it to stop. The drums pounded at the strength she had left. Her fingers curled around the locket tighter.  
  
Her hand opened and the words slipped out unbidden. Not, not words... Bestial hisses, which shook memories from the recesses of her mind.  
  
The locket swung open and the pounding ceased. The streetlamp sputtered out as Ginny finally realized what the drumming was.  
  
"It is the beating of his hideous heart."  
  
The voice was cold, quiet. It sent icy chills down Ginny's spine. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder.  
  
"No." Ginny shook her head, the tears welling in her eyes. "It can't be. You can't be here."  
  
He smirked at her as he took a step towards her, only lit by the full moonlight. It caught his eyes, illuminating the red orbs, then the shining black tresses, not a hair out of place.  
  
"Regard that woman who hesitates towards me." Tom's mouth curled in a twisted grin. "You free me not once, but twice? I underestimated my own charm."  
  
Shutting her eyes tightly, Ginny reached down and closed the locket. Teeth worrying her lower lip, she opened her eyes again.  
  
He was now inches from her, arm around her waist. He leaned in, breath hot against her earlobe. "Did you really think it would be that easy?"  
  
"He killed you," Ginny's voice was soft, yet dangerous.  
  
"Not very effectively." Tom's hand slipped down, cupping her bottom and pulling her flush against him. "Why so upset, Ginevra? You're the one who called me out."  
  
"You used me," Ginny snapped. "Again, you used me. And now you're going to take my life..."  
  
"It's already mine," Tom growled.  
  
His voice was like black silk: sleek and dark, caressing her flesh. She wanted to say no. She wanted to cry stop. She wanted to turn and run back to the Ministry, alert her friends and family that he... That he...  
  
But her body betrayed her. Her mind protested, told her to get away, now. His voice, his eyes, they were like a leash tethering her to him.  
  
"Please," Ginny's voice was weakened, hoarse. "Stop it."  
  
"You want to be left alone?" Tom's unctuous voice was laced with mocking. His lip curled in a snarl. "Beg me."  
  
She opened her mouth, but the pleas refused to voice themselves. Her hand buried itself in his silky hair and he tugged him to her, crushing her lips against his. His tongue delved deep, swiping against hers. Their teeth knocked together as their tongue dueled.  
  
Her stomach lurched as the effects of Apparation took over. She wretched herself away from Tom, looking around frantically. Her eyes widened as she took in the large marble snake entrances and the statue of Salazar Slytherin.  
  
"The Chamber," Ginny whispered, lip trembling. "You brought me to the Chamber."  
  
But... No... The chamber didn't have high windows, moonlight causing eerie, long shadows across the stone floor.  
  
"A re-creation," Tom explained. "It would be too difficult for me to infiltrate Hogwarts on a regular basis, but I do love the ambiance."  
  
Ginny took a deep breath, steeling her nerves. "You sure it wasn't the big, overcompensating snake?"  
  
"You've become feisty," Tom commented with a smirk.  
  
The smack across her cheek was deafening. Ginny reached up to soothe the stinging flesh, eyes wide as she stared at Tom.  
  
"Sass is all well and good, but I _will_ be respected," Tom voice cut through her. "You. Are. Mine." He roughly grabbed her chin, pushing it up to force her to meet his icy gaze. "The bed. Lie _down on it_."  
  
His melodic voice suffused her form. Her mind was fuzzy. "What are you doing to me?" Her words slurred slightly. But her feet moved. She staggered slightly, catching the border of her dress. It tore, but she continued on.  
  
"Lie down," Tom repeated. "Now."  
  
It was hardly a bed. Rather, it was a tablet, a Celtic knotwork serpent etched into the stone. Her mind pleaded with her, told her to stop. But her body refused all order, lying down, her head resting against the serpent carving, chin tilted upwards.  
  
Tom approached her slowly. The moonlight glinted on the knife clutched in his hand.  
  
"Are you going to slit my throat?" Ginny asked, swallowing hard. "Spill my blood for some arcane ritual."  
  
"No." Tom smirked down at her. He ran the knife down her front. She could feel the dull side of the blade against her flesh as he cut through the silk of her gown. He pulled the tatters of her dress away from her, leaving her exposed. "I thought I would spill something else for some arcane ritual."  
  
Ginny felt like she was frozen to the spot as Tom walked around her, circling like a hawk about to devour prey. Perhaps he was.  
  
Tom's hand ran down the stockings still covering her legs, to the suspender belt that held them up. "How lavish," he purred, snapping the belt and making her jump. "My, my, Ginevra... You have grown up."  
  
"Please no," Ginny begged. "I haven't..."  
  
Tom cocked his head. "You haven't?" He laughed coldly. His knife slipped under her panties, tearing up one side, then the other. He discarded the mutilated undergarment. "I thought Potter had beaten me to it." He ran his fingers through the fiery red hair that covered her mound. "Even better. A virgin sacrifice always works best."  
  
Ginny let out a strangled cry as his finger penetrated her. Her body betrayed her, arching up in need. "If you're going to rape me," she rasped out. "Do you mind putting away the knife?"  
  
Tom tossed the knife aside, using his now free hand to caress her stocking-clad leg. "Rape? Hardly. You're quite--" He glided his finger in and out, causing Ginny to mewl. "--willing. You just need to let go."  
  
 _Let go of what?_ Ginny asked herself. The hope she would ever see her family again? That she would ever leave this place? The idea that she had ever belonged anywhere but Tom Riddle's chamber?  
  
"More," Ginny whispered before she could stop herself.  
  
With snake-like sleekness, Tom slithered onto the tablet, hovering over Ginny. "More?"  
  
Ginny shook her head, closing her eyes tightly.  
  
"No?" Tom taunted, slowly slipping his finger out, sliding it up her labia slowly, making Ginny's toes curl as he inched closer to her clit. "Are you sure?"  
  
Ginny keened as he made contact with the centre of her pleasure, causing her to surge up, seeking firmer ministrations.  
  
"Indecision is very wearisome, Ginevra." Tom tutted softly, pressing his thumb against the small nub, rubbing it roughly. "Now be a good girl and tell me to fuck you."  
  
"You have me naked on a slab," Ginny murmured, her hips gyrating to grind against his hand. "Isn't that enough?"  
  
"Hardly." Tom leaned in, lips brushing against hers. "You need to beg me to deflower you, strip away the last shred of innocence you cling to, show you what you really are."  
  
The kiss was searing, hungry. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and bit, causing him to yelp into her mouth. The action did nothing to cease his fervor. He plundered her mouth with an agile tongue. He pinned one of her wrists against the stone. The other continued to tease her, test her resistance. Ginny used her free hand to find purchase in his hair, bury in the thick locks and match his rough kisses with her own.  
  
He tasted like black cherries, somehow both sweet and bitter at the same time, dark and forbidding but.... Delicious. It was the taste of lost innocence and broken promises. The taste of death.  
  
"Please!" Ginny tore herself from his mouth. It took her a moment to realize the pounding in her ears was not the drums that had tormented her, but the thrum of her own heart. It beat a furious tattoo in her chest. Tom's proximity, his scent and taste and touch, it heated her blood and chilled her soul all at once. "Fuck me," she hissed. She could no longer tell if she truly meant it or not. All she knew was that he wanted it. That was all that mattered when at the mercy of Lord Voldemort, whatever incarnation. His will was law. Her body was his.  
  
"Was that so hard?" Tom taunted, invading her with a finger once again. He added a second and Ginny whimpered. It was true, she had fingers inside her before-- both her own and her ex-boyfriends-- but they had never been some demanding. It had been months since she had been touched in such a way and he refused her the time to adjust.  
  
And she liked it. Oh, how she _liked_ it. Tom's touch was possessive, demanding. Every inch of her flesh sizzled under his fingertips.  
  
Ginny whimpered, hips rising to meet his rough caress. She wanted... She didn't know what, but she _wanted_.  
  
"Tom," she pleaded.  
  
He was on her, his body divest of clothing and pressed against hers. One hand cupped her chin, tilting it so she looked into his eyes. "I could see nothing behind that child's eye."  
  
So curiously he spoke, Ginny noted silently. Perhaps his puzzling words meant this was a dream. Certainly, she had dreams of Tom before.  
  
But could such intense, raw pleasure be created by merely fantasy?  
  
A hand buried in Ginny's thick red locks and she felt him breach her. Hot and hard he seared into her, branding her forever as his. She threw her head back, howling in pleasure, in pain.... She couldn't tell the difference between either sensation. It was neither, it was both... All she knew was her body craved more, needed to be possessed, needed to be destroyed and put back together.  
  
Her mind still cried no, told her to flee from Tom-- Voldemort. This coupling would be her doom if she didn't escape. But her body yearned for him, overwhelming all rational thought. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders and back, trying to pull him deeper into her. As he surged deeper, the deeper she fell into him-- into the darkness all consuming and damning.  
  
"Beg me to keep fucking you," Tom hissed in her ear before biting the lobe. He hips slammed against her as he sank deeper into her warmth. One of his hands grabbed the locket around her throat, fingering it as if it were a collar. Maybe it was. It declared to the world Ginevra Weasley belong to no one but Lord Voldemort. "Supplicate yourself in front of your Lord. Plead to be allowed to come."  
  
Ginny's legs tightened around Tom's waist, drawing him yet closer, deeper. Her back arched and she bit her lower lip. " _Please_ , Tom!" She moaned. "Please make me come! Oh Lord, I want to come so badly!"  
  
"Have you ever felt like this before?" Tom taunted.  
  
Ginny shook her head. "Never." And it was true. She had never been more aroused, but guilty. Never more excited, but scared. Never more alive, but dead.  
  
His clever fingers glided over her clit and she was there. Her body stiffened, she felt like she would crack under the pressure. Ever nerve ended sang as she clutched desperately around his cock, wailing out her orgasm.  
  
Tom unceremoniously pulled out of her and flipped her over onto her back. Gripping her hair, he forced her to her feet. Ginny wanted to protest, her body weak, but she bent fully to his will. She was his and could not resist him. He held her arms behind her back, restraining her. Yet it was somehow comforting to her, to be possessed by him. He had always owned her; only this time it was her body as well as her soul.  
  
The pain was white-hot as he opened her, breeching her ass. She wanted to cry out, to beg him to stop, but she couldn't. He wanted to dominate her utterly. Her mouth opened in muted cry.  
  
With his free hand, Tom brushed the stray hair out of Ginny's face. He leaned in, whispering in her ear. "Regard the moon... _La lune ne garde aucune rancune_ ,"  
  
Ginny didn't know if it was a spell or just more of Tom's nonsense. She didn't care, she just wanted to feel him inside her.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Tom wave his wand. She gasped as she felt something warm and slick in her arse, easing Tom's thrusts. Her initial pain was apparently enough for him. A tear slid down her cheek.  
  
"Did I hurt you badly?" Tom cooed in her ear.  
  
"Do you care?" Ginny rasped.  
  
"Of course I do, my pet," Tom chuckled. "If I damage you, I can't enjoy you again."  
  
Ginny moaned as the implication of his words sank in. She would never be free of him. She was no longer a person, she was his plaything.  
  
Part of her wanted to cry, to mourn the loss of her future and her damnation. But still, there was a horrific thrill of erotic pleasure in her loins. She was _his_ and something deep in her soul loved it.  
  
Ginny cried out hoarsely as Tom emptied into her. He let go of her, dropping her onto the slab once again. She was utterly limp, drained of every last ounce of energy.  
  
"You've always been mine, Ginevra," Tom purred, stroking the small of her back. "No matter how many times he kills me, you will always bring me back." He chuckled. "And this time, I won't fail. With you by my side, I will destroy that boy once and for all. All because of you."  
  
Tears slid down Ginny's cheeks. That was it. The last twist of the knife.


End file.
